kurochi

unfortunately a fanfic addict age: 20

[kamuifade]

I absolutely absolutely adore how you write Shikaku. 🔥🫦 Not only it hits the spot, it certainly inspire! 😏

And damn part I was so good, I’m shamelessly asking for Revenge part II. 🫣

You wake up to Shikaku devouring you slowly, pussy all swollen and dripping. Your fingers tread through his mane, the softness of your strokes makes him even hungrier for you. His every move in you sent shockwave through your body, sinfully good that your mouth uttered carelessly, “Oh yes, daddy… more.”

He pauses.

For a split second, you feel awkward that you withdraw slightly. But you see the change in his eyes—dark and ferocious, nothing like the gentle charisma you have seen overnight.

The animal in him awakens.

He rises—his aura beastly as he flips you on your hands and knees. Hot slaps land on your ass cheeks, his nails clawing your red skin, and without warning, he pounds you doggy style with a punishing velocity.

“Tell me again, sweetheart,” his voice gritty with minimal composure as he grinds you brutally, pulling you up to sink his teeth at your earlobe and whisper, “Who’s your daddy?”

(AAAAGGGHHH HELLPPPP) 😫

revenge part one can be found here

---------------------------

The rain had softened to a gentle, persistent patter against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the heavy, intimate atmosphere filling the bedroom. The air was thick and warm with the unmistakable scent of last night’s passion—musky, salty-sweet arousal mixed with Shikaku’s signature cedarwood and smoky undertone that clung to the sheets and your skin. Dawn light filtered in gray and muted through the half-drawn curtains, casting soft shadows across the rumpled bed. Your body felt heavy, deliciously sore in all the right places, every muscle languid and aching from being thoroughly claimed… until a slow, molten heat between your thighs pulled you fully awake.

Shikaku was already there, wedged comfortably between your spread legs. His broad, scarred shoulders flexed powerfully under the backs of your thighs, the coarse hair on his chest brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner legs. His salt-and-pepper mane was loose and tousled from sleep, the thick strands tickling and grazing your overheated flesh with every subtle shift of his head. His mouth was utterly relentless—hot, slick, and devastatingly thorough. That clever, experienced tongue dragged in long, savoring strokes through your swollen, puffy folds, lapping up every drop of the creamy mess he’d pumped into you the night before. The wet, obscene sounds of his lips sucking greedily at your clit and his tongue slurping deep inside you filled the quiet room, each filthy noise sending fresh shivers racing up your spine.

Your fingers instinctively threaded through his thick hair. The strands felt surprisingly soft yet slightly coarse at the roots, warm and faintly damp with a mix of his sweat and your own arousal. You stroked him gently, nails scraping lightly over his scalp in slow, soothing circles. The simple tactile pleasure of touching him seemed to unravel something deep inside the man. A low, vibrating growl rumbled directly against your core, the sensation traveling straight through your clit and making your walls flutter. His strong, calloused hands gripped the soft, plush flesh of your thighs harder, fingers sinking in with bruising strength as he spread you even wider, holding you completely open for his hunger. The rough scrape of his stubble dragged across your tender, oversensitive skin with every movement of his jaw, the prickly friction contrasting sharply with the silky heat of his tongue as it plunged deeper, curling and thrusting inside you like he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

“Oh… fuck,” you whimpered, your back arching sharply off the mattress. The overwhelming combination of textures and heat—the wet suction of his mouth, the relentless pressure on your clit, the burning stretch of his fingers digging into your thighs—had pleasure spiraling through you fast. Pleasure-drunk and still hazy from sleep, the word slipped out unfiltered: “Please, daddy… more.”

He froze completely.

The sudden loss of that slick, devastating heat left your pussy clenching desperately around nothing, aching and dripping. An awkward flush of heat rushed to your face as you started to pull your fingers from his hair, embarrassment creeping in. But then he slowly lifted his head.

His dark eyes—normally half-lidded with that signature lazy charisma—were blown wide and completely black with raw, feral hunger. A dangerous, predatory smirk curved his glistening lips, shiny with your slick. The gentle, experienced man who had fed you curry and fucked you so thoroughly last night had vanished. In his place was something primal, possessive, and starving.

“Say it again, sweetheart,” he growled, voice already rough.

Before you could even draw breath, he surged upward with terrifying speed. Rough, calloused palms gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach as if you weighed nothing. He yanked your hips high, forcing you onto your hands and knees. The cool morning air kissed your dripping, swollen pussy for only a heartbeat—then his large, heavy palm cracked sharply against your right ass cheek. The loud smack echoed through the room as bright, stinging heat bloomed across your skin, sinking deep into the muscle and making it jiggle. You gasped sharply, jolting forward, but his iron grip dragged you right back into position.

Another hard slap landed on the left cheek, then another, and another. His blunt nails raked possessively over the reddened, heated flesh, leaving raised, burning trails that made your pussy clench hard and drip fresh slick down your trembling thighs. The sharp contrast between the fiery pain and throbbing pleasure had your arms shaking, fingers twisting tightly in the sheets.

Then he mounted you.

No teasing. No mercy. He lined up and slammed home with one brutal, thick thrust, stretching your soaked walls around his scorching, rock-hard girth. The sudden overwhelming fullness punched a broken cry from your throat—you could feel every ridged vein, every inch of his massive cock dragging against your sensitive inner walls, pressing so deep it kissed your cervix. He immediately set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping forward with violent force. The heavy, wet slap-slap-slap of his pelvis colliding with your reddened ass filled the room, his thick, heavy balls smacking rhythmically against your swollen clit with every thrust. Sweat-slick skin slid hotly together where his powerful thighs pressed flush to the backs of yours.

He fisted one hand tightly in your hair, the sharp tug on your scalp yanking your head back and forcing your back into a deep, perfect arch. His other hand gripped your hip with bruising strength, fingers sinking deep into your soft flesh as he pulled you back onto his cock with every savage thrust. The intense heat of his broad, sweat-damp chest radiated against your back as he leaned over you, his coarse chest hair rubbing roughly against your skin.

“Tell me again,” he rasped, voice low and gritty, barely clinging to composure. He ground deep, rolling his hips in filthy, deliberate circles that let you feel every thick inch stirring and stretching inside you. Then he hauled your upper body flush against his sweat-slick chest, one strong arm banding tightly across your bouncing breasts, calloused fingers pinching and rolling a sensitive nipple until you keened. His mouth found your ear, teeth sinking sharply into your earlobe with a delicious sting as he growled hot and rough against your skin:

“Who’s your daddy?”

The overwhelming sensations—the burning stretch, the sting of his slaps still radiating across your ass, the rough scrape of his stubble and nails, the crushing grip of his hands, the slick slide of sweat between your bodies, the way his cock dragged against every perfect spot inside you—made it almost impossible to form coherent thoughts.

“Y-you—ahh—Shikaku—fuck—!”

A sharp slap cracked across your ass again, the fresh bloom of heat making your walls flutter wildly around him as he drove in even harder, the head of his cock battering against your deepest point with every punishing thrust.

“Wrong answer,” he snarled, breath hot and ragged against the side of your neck. “Try. Again.”

“Daddy,” you moaned brokenly, pushing back desperately to meet his brutal pace, your voice cracking with raw need. “You’re my daddy—please—!”

A deep, animalistic groan tore from his chest, vibrating through your back. He shoved you back down onto the mattress, blanketing you completely with his much larger, heavier body. His sweat-slick chest pressed flush to your back, the coarse hair on his torso rubbing against your damp skin as he rutted into you with feral intensity. His hand snaked underneath your body, rough fingertips finding your swollen, slippery clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles in perfect time with his thrusts. The pressure, the friction, the overwhelming fullness—it was all too much.

“That’s right,” he growled against the nape of your neck, teeth sinking in hard enough to leave a deep, claiming mark that you’d feel for days. “Good fucking girl. Gonna ruin this tight little pussy until the only word you know is daddy.”

The coil in your belly snapped violently. With a shattered, sobbing cry of “Daddy—!”, you came hard—your walls clamping and fluttering wildly around his thick cock as violent waves of pleasure tore through your entire body. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, fresh slick gushing around him and soaking both his length and the sheets beneath you.

Shikaku cursed roughly, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt. You felt every powerful pulse as he came, flooding your pulsing heat with thick, hot spurts that filled you to the brim and began to leak out around his cock.

He stayed draped heavily over you for long moments afterward, both of you panting harshly, skin sticky and sliding with sweat. His cock continued to twitch inside your fluttering walls, every small movement sending aftershocks through your oversensitive body. Slowly, the feral edge in him softened. He pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, the curve of your neck, and the shell of your ear—the warmth of his lips and tongue a tender, soothing contrast to the roughness before.

“Breakfast can wait,” he murmured, voice husky and deeply satisfied. He gave one last lazy, deep roll of his hips, stirring the messy warmth inside you. “We’ve got all morning… and I’m nowhere near done claiming what’s mine, sweetheart.”

[kamuifade]

Mmmm sitting in shikamarus lap, your legs spread to either side of his knees while he fiddles with your nipple and clit piercings. Like he knew you had a tongue piercing but he didn't realise you were a freak like this.

———————————

The lantern’s flame danced lazily in the corner of Shikamaru’s quarters, casting flickering amber light across the low wooden table still scattered with abandoned shogi pieces. A few had toppled over during your earlier “distraction,” lying forgotten on the tatami mats like casualties of a far more interesting game. The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of smoldering incense, the faint earthy musk of his skin after a long day, and the unmistakable sweet-salt aroma of your growing arousal. Every subtle shift of your body against his sent fresh ripples through the charged silence.

You sat straddled across Shikamaru’s lap, thighs spread obscenely wide over his parted knees, your back flush to his broad chest. The position left you utterly exposed—legs trembling from the stretch, cunt glistening and open, every piercing on full display for his unhurried exploration. His cock strained hard and hot against your ass through the thin fabric of his pants, twitching in rhythm with your smallest movements.

“Mm… look at you,” he drawled, voice low and smoky, lips brushing the sensitive spot just behind your ear. His breath was warm, teasing, carrying the faint hint of the sake you’d shared earlier. “All spread open like this, dripping down my thigh already. Didn’t know my girlfriend had such filthy little secrets hidden under those clothes.”

His left hand cupped your breast possessively, the rough pad of his thumb circling the silver barbell piercing your nipple with deliberate slowness. He tugged it gently at first—then firmer—watching the way the metal shifted and your nipple pebbled tighter under the stimulation. Sharp sparks of pleasure-pain shot straight to your core, making your pussy clench visibly. A slick bead of arousal trailed down your inner thigh.

“Ah—fuck, Shika…” you gasped, hips jerking involuntarily.

He chuckled, the deep vibration rumbling through his chest into your spine. “That’s right. Say my name while I play with these pretty toys you got.” His right hand dipped between your spread legs, fingers gliding through your soaked folds before zeroing in on the delicate clit piercing. He rolled the cool silver between thumb and forefinger, tugging it with precise, rhythmic pulls that made your clit throb and swell even more. The contrast of cold metal against your burning, slick heat was maddening.

You moaned louder, head falling back against his shoulder. The stretch in your hips made every sensation more intense—your legs quivering on either side of his knees, unable to close, completely at his mercy.

Shikamaru’s mouth latched onto your neck, sucking a slow, wet mark into the skin while his tongue traced the racing pulse there. “Tongue piercing was one thing,” he murmured against your throat, voice husky with dark amusement. “Had me daydreaming about that wicked little stud dragging along my cock for weeks. But these?” He gave both piercings a simultaneous tug—nipple and clit—drawing a sharp, needy cry from you. “Didn’t realize you were this much of a freak. Walking around the village with your nipples and clit pierced like a secret little slut. How long have you been hiding them from me?”

“Since… before we started dating,” you managed between shaky breaths, fingers digging into his thigh for purchase. “Wanted to surprise you… eventually.”

“Surprise?” He nipped your earlobe hard enough to sting, then soothed it with a slow, filthy lick. “This is more than a surprise. It’s fucking dangerous.” His fingers worked faster on the clit piercing now—flicking, rolling, tugging in quick succession while his other hand pinched and twisted the nipple barbell. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room as he spread your copious slick around the jewelry, making it slide and tug against your swollen nerves with every motion.

Your whole body shuddered. The pressure built relentlessly in your core, coiling tighter with each expert touch. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, steady but quickening, betraying how much this was affecting him too. His cock throbbed insistently against your ass, leaking pre-cum that dampened the fabric between you.

“Shikamaru—please, I need… I need more,” you whimpered, grinding down against his hand and the hard ridge of his erection.

“Greedy,” he teased, but his voice had gone rougher, breath hotter against your skin. “Look at the mess you’re making. Dripping all over my lap, soaking my pants. These piercings are so sensitive… bet I could make you cum just from playing with them.” He slipped one long finger just inside your entrance, curling it while his thumb continued tormenting the clit piercing with firm, circling strokes. The added stretch, the cool drag of metal, the relentless stimulation—it was overwhelming.

You cried out, back arching sharply, pushing your breasts further into his hand. He rewarded you by rolling your nipple between his knuckles, tugging the barbell in time with the thrusts of his finger. Sweat beaded on your skin; the room felt hotter, smaller, filled only with the wet sounds of his fingers working your pussy and your broken moans.

“Yeah, just like that,” he praised quietly, lips brushing your temple. “Let me hear how good it feels. Gonna spend all night learning every way these make you shake for me.” He added a second finger, scissoring them slowly while his thumb flicked rapidly over the piercing. “Then maybe I’ll let you sink that pierced tongue down on my cock while I keep playing with these pretty tits and this needy little clit…”

The pressure in your core wound tighter and tighter, a relentless spiral fueled by every precise tug, flick, and curl of Shikamaru’s fingers. The lantern light seemed to dim further as your vision blurred at the edges, the room narrowing to nothing but the heat of his body behind you, the slick sounds of his fingers plunging slowly into your dripping cunt, and the sharp, addictive pulls on your piercings.

“Shika—fuck—I’m so close,” you whimpered, voice cracking as your hips rolled desperately against his hand. Your thighs burned from being held so wide apart, muscles quivering uncontrollably, but you couldn’t close them. Couldn’t hide. The cool air kissed your soaked folds every time he withdrew his fingers slightly, only to push back in deeper, scissoring and stretching you open while his thumb kept up its merciless rhythm on your clit piercing.

“Yeah? Already?” His voice was a low, satisfied rumble against your neck, lips grazing the fresh hickey he’d sucked there. He twisted the nipple barbell sharply, sending a bolt of white-hot pleasure straight down your spine. “Such a sensitive little thing. These piercings make you so fucking easy to read. Feel that? The way your pussy’s gripping my fingers every time I tug on this pretty clit jewelry?”

He demonstrated with a firm, rhythmic pull on the silver barbell between your legs—once, twice—while his fingers crooked inside you, stroking that perfect spot with lazy expertise. Slick arousal gushed around his hand, coating his palm and dripping messily down onto his thigh and the tatami mat below. The wet sounds were filthy, echoing in the quiet room alongside your broken gasps and his steady breathing.

You cried out, head thrown back against his shoulder, fingers tightening in his messy ponytail. The tug on his hair made him groan softly, hips grinding up so his hard cock pressed firmer against the curve of your ass.

“That’s it,” he murmured, breath hot and ragged now. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart while I play with these filthy little secrets of yours.” He picked up the pace just enough—fingers thrusting deeper, thumb flicking and rolling your clit piercing rapidly while his other hand pinched and tugged your nipple in perfect sync.

The coil snapped.

Pleasure crashed over you in heavy, pulsing waves. Your back arched violently, a loud, keening moan tearing from your throat as your walls clenched and fluttered around his fingers. Fresh slick soaked his hand, your clit throbbing wildly against the shifting metal of the piercing. Your entire body shook in his lap, legs trembling on either side of his knees as the orgasm dragged on, prolonged by his unrelenting touches.

Shikamaru didn’t stop. He kept stroking you through it, slower now, gentler, drawing out every last shudder and whimper until you were limp and panting against his chest. Only then did he ease his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth. You heard the wet sound of him sucking them clean, a low hum of approval vibrating through him.

“Sweet,” he said, voice thick with lust. “Tastes even better when you’re this worked up.” He shifted beneath you, adjusting your spent body so you were still straddling him but facing him now—chest to chest, your sensitive nipples brushing against his shirt with every heaving breath.

Your hands moved to his waistband, fingers fumbling with the tie of his pants, but he caught your wrist with a lazy smirk, dark eyes gleaming in the lantern light.

“Not yet.” He guided your hand lower instead, pressing your palm against the thick, straining bulge of his cock. “First, you’re gonna show me what that pierced tongue can really do while I keep playing with these.” His free hand returned to your breasts, rolling one barbell between his fingers as he leaned in to capture your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss—tongue flicking against yours, teasing the silver stud there.

When he pulled back, lips shiny, he nudged you downward with that same unhurried command. “On your knees between my legs, but keep them spread. I want to watch those pretty pierced tits while you suck me.”

You slid off his lap onto the mat, thighs still shaky and slick, kneeling between his spread knees just as he’d ordered. The position kept you open and exposed for him. Shikamaru leaned back on his hands, watching with half-lidded eyes as you tugged his pants down, his heavy cock springing free—hard, flushed, and already leaking at the tip.

“Fuck… that’s my girl,” he breathed as your tongue—warm, wet, and studded with that teasing silver piercing—darted out to trace the underside of his length. “Show me how much you love me yeah?”

His hand tangled gently in your hair, not forcing, just guiding as you took him into your mouth. The cool metal of your tongue piercing dragged along his sensitive skin with every bob of your head, drawing deep, appreciative groans from him. Meanwhile, his other hand reached down to toy with your swaying breasts—tugging, flicking, and rolling your nipple piercings in time with the rhythm of your mouth.

The night was far from over. Shikamaru had every intention of exploring every secret you’d hidden from him… one slow, devastating orgasm at a time.

[kamuifade]

Just Shikaku Nara worshipping every part your body while you’re straddling him face-to-face. His mouth, teeth, tongue, hands and fingers vigorous on your breasts, lips and face. Tugging your hair back so he can savour your neck.. whatever parts with skin, marking you as his with love bites. Then spreading your ass wide so his whole length fills you up before you ride him crazy like a cowgirl. 😳

Feel free ignore me, but I don’t think I’m gonna stop asking for daddy Nara anytime soon… you made him terrifyingly delicious! 🫦❤️

——————————

The room was dim, lit only by the low flicker of a lantern in the corner of the Nara clan head’s private quarters. The air hung thick and warm with the mingled scents of smoldering pine incense, the earthy musk of Shikaku’s skin, and the unmistakable sweet-salt tang of your growing arousal. A faint sheen of sweat already glistened across both your bodies, making every point of contact slick and heated.

You straddled Shikaku face-to-face, knees sunk deep into the thick futon cushions on either side of his hips. His broad, scarred chest radiated steady warmth against your bare breasts, the coarse dark hair there teasing your sensitive nipples with every subtle shift. His half-lidded eyes, dark as midnight and heavy with lazy hunger, never left your face as his large, calloused hands claimed your waist.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated straight through his chest into yours. “Sitting so pretty on my cock like you were made for it. My perfect little wife.”

He pulled you closer with a firm tug, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep, devouring kiss. His tongue swept in hot and insistent, tasting of the sake you’d shared earlier and the raw need that had been simmering all evening. The wet slide of his lips, the faint scrape of teeth on your lower lip, the way he sucked the breath from your lungs—it sent sparks racing down your spine. One of his hands slid up your back, fingers threading firmly into your hair before he gave a slow, deliberate tug. Your head fell back with a gasp, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat.

Shikaku’s mouth latched on instantly. The heat of his breath ghosted over your skin, followed by the wet drag of his tongue tracing your fluttering pulse. Then came the sharp sting of teeth—sucking hard, possessive—pulling blood to the surface in blooming love bites that throbbed in time with your heartbeat. He growled against your neck, the vibration traveling straight to your core as he marked you again and again: throat, collarbones, the soft junction of neck and shoulder. Each bite was followed by a soothing lave of his tongue, the contrast making you shiver and clench around nothing yet.

His free hand worshipped your breasts with reverent intensity. Rough palms cupped and squeezed the soft, heavy flesh, thumbs circling and flicking over your stiffened nipples until they ached. He leaned in, hot mouth closing over one peak—tongue swirling, teeth grazing, then sucking deep and rhythmic. The wet heat, the rhythmic pull, the occasional sharp nip sent jolts of pleasure straight between your legs. He switched sides, leaving the first nipple glistening with saliva and reddened from his attention, while his fingers continued to pinch and roll the other. The obscene, slick sounds of his mouth filled the room alongside your breathy moans.

“Fuck… these tits,” he rasped against your sternum, voice rough and muffled as he buried his face between them, nipping and sucking at the sensitive undersides. “So soft. So warm. Smell so fucking good.” His hands roamed everywhere—squeezing your hips, stroking the curve of your ass, tracing the dip of your spine—every inch of skin set alight by his calloused touch and the scrape of his stubble.

You were trembling, skin flushed and marked, when he finally pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His cock stood thick and heavy between your bodies, the flushed head slick with precum that smeared hot against your stomach. Shikaku’s hands slid lower, gripping your ass cheeks firmly and spreading you wide. The cool air kissed your exposed, dripping entrance for only a heartbeat before he aligned himself.

“Lift up, sweetheart,” he commanded, voice husky. You rose on shaky knees. He pulled you down slowly, the broad, blunt head stretching you open with a delicious, burning pressure. Inch by thick inch he sank into you, the wet, obscene sound of your slick folds parting around his girth filling the air. The stretch was intense—full, deep, perfect—the heat of him pulsing inside you as your walls fluttered and clenched.

A guttural groan tore from his throat, his fingers digging bruises into your spread cheeks. “Shit… so tight. So wet. Taking every fucking inch like you were born for my cock.” He held you there, fully seated, grinding up in small, deep circles that pressed against that sensitive spot inside you and made your clit grind against his pelvis. The musky scent of sex grew heavier, your combined arousal coating his thighs and dripping down.

Then you began to move—rolling your hips in a slow, experimental rhythm that drew broken moans from both of you. Shikaku’s head fell back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded in bliss, but his hands never left you. One stayed on your ass, guiding and spreading you wider with every downward thrust; the other tangled back in your hair, tugging just hard enough to arch your back and expose your marked throat and heaving breasts for his mouth again.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure as he thrust up to meet you, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder and faster. “Ride me. Let me feel this tight little pussy squeeze me while I mark what’s mine.” His mouth returned to your breasts—sucking, biting, licking—while his fingers dug into your flesh and his cock filled you completely with every roll of your hips. Sweat-slick skin, panting breaths, the sting of bites, the delicious drag and stretch of him inside you—it all blurred into overwhelming sensation as you lost yourself in his worship.

[some-weebs-posts]

Batman: No more aliens in Gotham! If I so much as suspect a Kryptonian is in the area, I'm pulling out the kryptonite. *Later* Bruce: Why don't I have any grandchildren? Dick,facetiming Starfire: No idea. Jason, texting Artemis: Haven't a clue. Tim, emailing Kon: Unknown. Damian, playing an online game with Jon: A real mystery.

[dear-yennicent]

Thing I did cuz I finished the first part of Naruto recently :D

[wumbsie]

needy little rock

[scarlct-vvitch]

project hail mary is insane bc the first half is like oh my god the world is dying and there's alien bacteria eating the sun and there's some guy alone on a ship and he's having a breakdown and the flashbacks are getting darker and this is a tragedy the likes of which i have never seen. then BAM andy weir says fuck you actually. here's this pokemon guy he's here to save the day with the power of friendship. and it's the best thing you've ever seen in your life

[thepaisleyelf]

There’s a liquor store near my house that seems to be run exclusively by frat boys. They lovingly curate these bags, which I browsed today while “Oops I Did It Again” played through the store speakers. This is art to me, there is beauty everywhere for those with eyes to see it

[barbiedraw]

Spoiler🌹

[ooppo]

A PORN BOT UNFOLLOWED ME?

[ooppo]

not that i care

[ooppo]

[krustyyy]

malleus and his teeny gargoyle buddy >:3

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Okay but imagine being the team of Eridian scientists tasked with keeping Erid's Only Human alive for as long as possible while the whole planet's environment is literally trying to kill him. And then Rocky shows up and is like:

“Grace says he would like half of dome to be water.”

“Oh, is necessary for humans to have large amounts of water question?”

Small Eridian equivalent of a sigh. “No. Not needed for life. In fact Grace will die if he falls in water and does not get out.”

“Tell him we give him water in containers that won't kill him. Lots lots lots of water on Erid for Grace to drink.”

“No. Grace say he want water on ground. Also want it with excess sodium chloride compound so it will be unhealthy for drink.”

“WHY QUESTION???”

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

To celebrate Erid getting their sun back on track, Grace asks for some alcohol. There's a small amount left from the Hail Mary and Rocky offers to take it to the science Eridians to see if they can synthesise more.

“Grace want this liquid for celebration.”

“Of course.” They scan it. “You have wrong liquid. This contain compounds which are poisonous for humans.”

“Yes yes yes. Grace say humans like feeling of being slightly poisoned.”

“WHY QUESTION?????”

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Grace is like one of those extremely finicky tropical fish who instantly die if not kept in extremely specific conditions.

Only here the fish can talk and keeps asking you to make it vodka.

[narutwitter]

[kamuifade]

what if the gang was on a vacation and were staying at this big ass hotel room. reader and shikamaru were cuddling on one of the beds, face on your chest, wandering hands under your hoodie while you’re scrolling through your phone—basically he CAN’T keep his hands off you and the others walk in on that 😭

———————————

The hotel suite was massive—way bigger than necessary for a quick group getaway, but Ino had insisted on the “penthouse experience” with her usual dramatic flair. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city skyline, the living area sprawled with plush couches and a kitchenette stocked with snacks Choji had already half-devoured. Two bedrooms branched off the main space, but the gang had mostly crashed together in the common area earlier, laughing over cheap takeout and bad movies until Ino dragged Choji out for “emergency shopping” an hour ago.

You and Shikamaru had claimed one of the king beds in the quieter bedroom, the door left cracked because it wasn’t like anyone was coming back soon. The afternoon light filtered soft and golden through the half-drawn curtains, casting lazy patterns across the rumpled sheets. You were propped up against a mountain of pillows, hoodie unzipped just enough for comfort, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Shikamaru had gravitated to you like a magnet the second the others left—his long, lean body draped half over yours, head pillowed comfortably on your chest, dark hair tickling your collarbone.

“Troublesome,” he muttered against your skin, but there was no real complaint in it. Just that low, drawling voice that always sent a warm shiver down your spine. His arm curled possessively around your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your hoodie with practiced ease. They weren’t idle. They never were when he got like this—quiet, clingy, hands wandering in slow, deliberate circles over the soft skin of your stomach, tracing the curve of your ribs, dipping teasingly lower only to retreat again like he had all the time in the world.

“Shika…” you breathed, half-warning, half-invitation, eyes still on your screen even as your free hand threaded through his hair. He hummed in response, nuzzling deeper into the valley between your breasts, lips brushing fabric and skin in a way that made your pulse jump. His palm flattened warm and broad against your lower back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The other hand ventured higher, fingertips grazing the underside of your bra, not quite pushing further but promising he could. He smelled like faint cologne, hotel shampoo, and that unmistakable lazy warmth that was just him.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, voice muffled. “You’re right here. Soft. Mine.” His fingers flexed, kneading gently at your side, then sliding up again to trace idle patterns that made your breath hitch. He shifted his weight, thigh pressing between yours just enough to anchor you there, face still buried contentedly against your chest like it was the most natural pillow in existence. Every so often he’d press a lazy kiss to the exposed skin at the neckline of your hoodie, or let his teeth graze lightly—just enough to remind you he was paying attention even if his eyes were half-lidded.

You tried to focus on your phone, thumb scrolling through whatever feed, but it was impossible. His touch was everywhere and nowhere, wandering with that signature Shikamaru patience that somehow made it filthier. A slow drag of nails down your side. The press of his palm cupping your hip. The way his breath warmed the fabric over your nipple when he turned his head just so.

The door to the suite beeped open in the main room—Ino’s bright laugh carrying through like a warning too late to matter.

“Seriously, Choji, if you eat one more—oh my god.”

You froze. Shikamaru didn’t. His hand stayed right where it was, tucked possessively under your hoodie, fingers splayed across your bare skin as if daring interruption. He lifted his head just enough to glance toward the cracked bedroom door with one lazily raised eyebrow, hair tousled and expression the picture of mild annoyance.

Ino stood in the doorway, shopping bags dangling from her fingers, mouth open in delighted shock. Choji loomed behind her, cheeks already flushing as he took in the scene—your flushed face, Shikamaru’s completely unbothered position draped over you like a cat who refused to be moved.

“Uh… we can come back later?” Choji offered, ever the peacemaker, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ino was already grinning like she’d won the lottery. “No way. Shikamaru Nara, you absolute sneak. All that ‘troublesome’ talk and here you are groping your girl in broad daylight. On vacation. I knew it!”

Shikamaru sighed deeply, the sound vibrating against your chest. His wandering hand didn’t retreat—in fact, it gave a subtle, possessive squeeze that made you bite your lip to stifle a sound. “You two have the worst timing,” he drawled, voice still thick with that lazy heat. He pressed one more unhurried kiss to your sternum before finally propping himself up on an elbow, though he made no move to untangle the rest of himself from you. “We were just… resting.”

“Yeah, resting,” Ino snorted, eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned against the doorframe. “Resting my ass, Nara.”

Choji mumbled something about snacks and retreated toward the kitchenette, ears red. You buried your face in your hands, equal parts mortified and amused, phone forgotten on the sheets. Shikamaru’s free hand found yours, tugging it gently away so he could look at you—dark eyes warm, a rare half-smirk tugging at his lips.

“Told you not closing the door was a bad idea,” he whispered, low enough for only you to hear, thumb brushing your knuckles. But the way his other hand still lingered under your hoodie, tracing slow circles like he had zero intention of stopping even with company present, said he didn’t really mind.

Ino cackled from the doorway. “Don’t stop on our account! We’ll just… be out here. Loudly.”

The suite filled with her laughter as she finally gave you two some semblance of privacy—door clicking shut but not all the way. Shikamaru exhaled through his nose, dropping his head back to your chest with zero shame.

“Troublesome,” he repeated, but his wandering hands picked up right where they left off, bolder now, like the interruption had only fueled that quiet, relentless want.

Your fingers found his hair again, heart racing as the city hummed beyond the windows and your friends pretended not to eavesdrop.

[kamuifade]

okay I’m not sure if you’ve done something similar before I mean it’s kinda specific but anyway: a drabble where Shikamaru comes home after a rough mission and he’s kinda out of it when he comes home? like kinda emotionless and still in the zone of killing if that makes sense😭 and all he wants is the reader (maybe like a sweet and gentle reader bc that makes it better😋) and he like takes his frustration out on her but he’s also gentle at the same time? like for example he’ll be roughly thrusting into her but at the same time is hold on her waist/hips is super gentle or maybe he brushes away a hair from her face and then afterwards he apologises and is super gentle and sweet🥹🥹🥹 IM SORRY THIS IS SO SPECIFIC😭😭

thanks cutie ur fics are genuinely the best🫶🏼

me creating ANBU Shikamaru just for this

———————————

The door to your shared apartment slid open with a faint metallic whisper, the cool night air from outside carrying in the sharp, metallic tang of blood and damp earth. Shikamaru stepped inside, his ANBU mask still firmly in place, the black cloak heavy and stained, clinging to his frame like a shroud. His movements were eerily precise—boots scuffing softly against the wooden floor, each step deliberate and silent, as if the mission’s shadows still clung to him. He didn’t speak. His dark eyes, visible through the narrow slits of the mask, were void of their usual lazy spark, flat and distant, locked in that lethal, emotionless zone where every breath was calculated and mercy didn’t exist.

You’d been curled on the couch under a soft blanket, the faint vanilla scent of the tea you’d brewed earlier still lingering in the air, your book long forgotten as worry gnawed at you. The moment the door clicked shut, you rose, your bare feet padding quietly across the cool floorboards. “Shikamaru…” you breathed, voice gentle and sweet as always, reaching out to help lift the mask from his face.

His gloved hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with firm control—not bruising, but unyielding. The leather was cool and slightly gritty against your warm skin. He pulled you in close instead, the scent of him hitting you fully: pine and smoke from the forest, undercut by the coppery bite of blood and the salty musk of exertion. One large hand settled at the small of your back, guiding you backward toward the bedroom with quiet intensity. No words. Just the heavy rhythm of his controlled breathing and the faint rustle of fabric as he moved.

Your heart fluttered, a mix of concern and warmth blooming in your chest as you let him lead. When the backs of your knees brushed the edge of the bed, he lowered you onto the soft mattress with surprising care, his hands supporting your weight like you might shatter. The mask came off with a soft clatter on the nightstand, revealing his pale face—streaked with dirt and dried sweat, his usual ponytail loose and messy, strands of dark hair clinging to his damp forehead. Those eyes… they finally focused on you, burning with raw need beneath the haze.

Clothes were discarded in heavy silence. His calloused fingers worked methodically, peeling away your thin shirt and shorts, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing your smooth skin with feather-light reverence. The cool air kissed your bare body, raising goosebumps, before his warmth enveloped you. He shed his own gear—the cloak pooling heavily on the floor with a dull thud, followed by the rest—revealing the taut, scarred muscles of his torso glistening with a faint sheen of sweat.

He positioned himself between your thighs, the heat of his thick cock pressing against your entrance, already slick from the way your body responded to him. With one slow, deliberate push, he sank into you—inch by inch, stretching your walls with a burning fullness that drew a soft, breathy gasp from your lips. The wet, intimate sound of him filling you echoed in the quiet room. His hips snapped forward then, setting a rough, punishing rhythm: deep, powerful thrusts that rocked the bed frame with rhythmic creaks, the slap of skin on skin sharp and obscene. Each stroke dragged against that perfect spot inside you, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

Yet his hands… they contradicted everything. One gripped your hip, fingers splayed wide and warm, holding you steady with a gentleness that bordered on worship—never digging in, just anchoring you like you were the most precious thing in his fractured world. The other braced beside your head, thumb brushing tenderly along your cheekbone, tracing the curve of your jaw. He leaned down, forehead pressing to yours, sharing the salty taste of his skin when his lips ghosted yours in a near-kiss. His breath was hot and ragged against your mouth, carrying the faint hint of the ration bars he’d eaten hours ago.

You whimpered softly, your gentle hands sliding up the sweat-slick planes of his back, feeling every flex and ripple of muscle as he drove into you. The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds of your joining—wet and filthy—mingled with your soft moans and the faint creak of the bed. He remained utterly quiet, not a single word or groan escaping him, just the intense focus in his half-lidded eyes as he watched every flutter of your lashes, every parting of your lips.

When your climax built, coiling tight and hot in your core, he shifted his angle with devastating precision, thrusting harder, deeper, the friction sending you spiraling. Your walls clenched around him like velvet heat, pulsing as pleasure crashed over you in shuddering waves. A broken cry tore from your throat, your nails lightly scoring his shoulders. He followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt with one final, stuttering thrust. You felt the hot, thick spill of his release deep inside you, his cock twitching as he emptied himself completely. A single, barely audible exhale escaped him—the only sound he’d made.

He stayed there for a long moment, sheathed within your fluttering heat, his weight carefully braced on his forearms so as not to crush you. The scent of sex—musky, sweet, and heady—hung thick in the air. Slowly, he pulled out with a wet, slick sound, a trickle of his cum leaking from you onto the sheets. He rolled to the side and gathered you against his chest, strong arms wrapping around your smaller frame with infinite tenderness. His skin was warm and damp, heart hammering steadily beneath your ear as his fingers combed through your hair, brushing away damp strands from your flushed face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured at last, voice low and rough like gravel, the first words since he’d come home. His lips pressed to your forehead, then your temple, lingering with soft, apologetic kisses that tasted of salt and relief. “Didn’t mean to be so rough with you. The mission… it stuck with me longer than it should’ve. You’re too sweet for that. Too gentle.” His hand traced lazy, soothing circles along your spine, the calluses rough but the pressure feather-light. “Thank you for being here. For letting me come back to this… to you.”

You nestled closer into his embrace, the steady thrum of his heartbeat and the warm, familiar scent of him grounding you both. The last remnants of that cold, emotionless zone melted away as he held you, his touches now pure softness—fingers gently massaging the small of your back, lips brushing your hair. Shikamaru wasn’t one for many words, but in the quiet afterglow, with his body relaxed and protective around yours, the tenderness said everything. He was home. Safe. And utterly yours.

[myuminji]

wha compilation doodle 5

[owwllly]

encouraging the new qifling